Taylor Swift is treating her music career like a pro athlete

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Taylor Swift collage with Money and Sports

Taylor Swift, MVP. Getty Images; Emma McIntyre/TAS24/Getty Images; Tyler Le/BI
  • Taylor Swift's relentless pursuit of album sales and chart records has been lucrative for the pop star.
  • Her critics have called her strategy gratuitous and shameless.
  • But is that a bad thing? If she were an athlete, she'd be the MVP.

Last week, Taylor Swift texted me every day for seven days straight.

Usually, she (OK, fine, her social media team, Taylor Nation) wanted to let me know another special variant of her new album, "The Life of a Showgirl," was available for purchase — but only if I acted fast. "The Life of a Showgirl (Deluxe So Glamorous Cabaret Version)" was available now, only for 10 hours! "The Life of a Showgirl (Deluxe Dressing Room Rehearsal Version)" could be mine if I acted within the next 24 hours! And so on.

Mind you, I had already purchased one of six limited-run vinyl pressings ("The Tiny Bubbles in Champagne Edition," of course, in the color "Red Lipstick and Lace"), but she still tried to tempt me to double up, using classic bait like bonus tracks and even songwriting drafts recorded on Swift's phone.

Critics have described Swift's sales tactics as manipulative and shameless, and I'll admit, I rolled my eyes at the barrage of notifications at least once. But hey, Swift's efforts paid off: "Showgirl" shattered Adele's decade-old record for the biggest album sales week in history, a feat previously thought impossible.

Is it fair to call her sales strategy shameless? Yes, but not in the negative way it's usually intended. Much like an elite athlete who's been training her entire life for this moment, Swift wants the glory, and she doesn't care who knows.

Swift is the music industry's MVP

Taylor Swift performs during the Eras Tour in London.

Taylor Swift performs during the Eras Tour in London. Gareth Cattermole/TAS24/Getty Images for TAS Rights Management

During a recent appearance on Travis Kelce's podcast, "New Heights," Swift's football star fiancé made this analogy explicit: "There are similarities in terms of her athleticism, what she's doing for three hours, how she works with her band," he said, referring to Swift's Eras Tour, the highest-grossing tour ever.

But Kelce's praise wasn't limited to Swift's physical stamina onstage. From his perspective, Swift's competitive drive offstage is equally athletic: "The preparation it takes to get there," he added, "the goals that you set for yourself to achieve."

Swift agreed. "On paper, we actually have a very similar job. Our job is to entertain people for three-plus hours in NFL stadiums," she said. "For me, it's called a rehearsal. For him, it's called a practice."

"Showgirl" is Swift's 15th chart-topping album on the Billboard 200, the most of any solo artist in history. Within its first week of release, it sold over 4 million equivalent album units, with over 3.5 million of those being pure sales. In other words, even if "Showgirl" hadn't been available to stream online, Swift had the all-time record on lock.

This isn't the first time Swift has used album variants to boost sales, nor is it the first time she's been criticized for doing so. She faced the same complaints about last year's rollout for "The Tortured Poets Department," which sold over 2.6 million copies in its first week. (She was also accused of goosing her streaming numbers with a surprise double-album drop, but the svelte 12-track "Showgirl" renders that argument moot.) All the way back in 2014, Swift was chastised for incentivizing fans to buy multiple "1989" CDs by packaging each version as a collectible.

Swift isn't breaking any rules or manipulating the system; Billboard's algorithm weights sales more heavily than streams, but only counts a maximum of four physical copies and one digital download per buyer. She's simply reached a rare zenith in her career where her longtime strategy, combined with her musical talent and hard-earned popularity, is paying off with unparalleled returns.

Notably, Swift has doubled down on her marketing strategy despite consistent backlash. For someone like Swift, who's so attuned to feedback and is constantly monitoring the dents in her reputation, there is only one explanation: She wants to put up big numbers and smash records more than she wants to be perceived as nonchalant or magnanimous. She's already a billionaire, so I'd wager it's less about making money and more about her hunger to win.

In the sports world, someone is always going to be the fastest, the strongest, or the most skilled in their position — someone who has worked countless unobserved hours to reach that level, all for the love of the game. In the music world today, if we're judging by records, trophies, and medals, Swift is by far the most valuable player.

If you love Swift, you're probably thrilled to root for the winning team. If you find her music annoying or her vibe distasteful, then her continued chart dominance — and her refusal to back down — comes off as an embarrassment of riches.

You might find yourself wondering, "How can she possibly want more?" But if you slip into an athlete's tenacious mindset, a better question might be: "Why wouldn't she?"

Many fans enjoy contributing to Swift's success

Taylor Swift fan wearing a "Speak Now" shirt and holding a "The Life of a Showgirl" CD.

Some physical variants of "The Life of a Showgirl" were only available at Target. Maya Dehlin Spach/Getty Images

As fans of a sport, why do we buy our favorite player's jersey or cheer loudly from the nosebleed seats? It's less about being seen or heard by the players themselves than about participating in something greater. The more you participate in the community built around a team, the more you feel like their wins are yours, too.

After two decades of building her own community, Swift's fans are like that, too. Many fans enjoy playing a role in Swift's success, however small, be it by buying her album, her merch, or streaming her songs. They often recoil from the concept that she's exploiting their buying power, seeing this critique as "condescending" and "infantilizing."

"It's shocking how people can't fathom Taylor Swift fans buying her music with their own money," one recent X post reads with over 12,000 likes. "There's gotta be an evil reason."

Others have noted how there's often a gendered double standard in this critique, or in the assumption that a "parasocial relationship" fueling their purchases.

"'Taylor Swift doesn't know you'…. ok neither the men on your favorite sports teams and yet you're crying and punching TVs when they lose," a fan wrote on X. "I love that men are allowed to spend thousands of dollars on season tickets," another fan added, "but I'm being exploited by capitalism when I buy a few Taylor Swift CDs and a sweatshirt once a year."

Even from a sports lens, some of the anti-Swift bitterness makes sense. Fans will always get annoyed when one team in the league scores an unstoppable winning streak. (I'm a lifelong Mets fan, and I grew up with the understanding that the New York Yankees, with their 27 World Series rings, are the MLB equivalent of the "Star Wars" evil empire.)

Still, I never questioned why the Yankees would want to add to their ring collection. That's the point of the game.

'Showgirl' illustrates how Swift views music as a blend of art, commerce, and competition

If her steady flow of vinyls, CDs, and digital flash-sales wasn't evidence enough, Swift's new music makes it clear that her role as an artist is inextricably linked with her role as an entertainer.

The album's title track tells the semi-fictional story of its narrator, presumably an avatar for teenage Swift. She meets her idol, a showgirl named Kitty, who "made her money being pretty and witty."

It's a story about feeling inspired to perform and to create, but also about the cutthroat reality of turning that dream into a career. Kitty is proof that it's not all about sequins, lipstick, and lace; the path to stardom is rocky and unreliable, and the terrain doesn't get any smoother at the summit. "They gave her the keys to this city," Swift sings, "then they said she didn't do it legitly."

In the end, Swift's character comes out on top — but not without provoking envy and making enemies.

"All the headshots on the wall of the dancehall are of the bitches who wish I'd hurry up and die," she teases in the bridge. "But I'm immortal now, baby dolls, I couldn't if I tried."

Perhaps making art should not be motivated by applause or competition, but Swift makes the argument that selling art has to be — especially if you want to see your name in lights. And baby, that's show business for you.

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